11 September 2015

What chanting
pentastich, what witchy incantatory verity have I myself, Dr. Legion True, intoned
at the very prologuing outset of this entire Mother – Fucking Saga,
“True it is.O, so head – bangingly true
it is!No one else ever thinks that your
passions and your struggles are anywhere near as fantastically important as you
yourself think that they are.You can
write letters to the editor, you can give speeches, even just little, daily
ones, to anyone who’ll listen, you can send a passel of e – mail transmissions
to folks who are glad to hear from you and to the ones who never want to hear
from you.It doesn’t make a bit of
difference.”

True it was and could not have been truer:I and ‘my case’ had not had anywhere near
that past summer’s diligent attention of this $125 – an – hour attorney way
down there 45 miles off inside the state’s capital city.

Not once.

Not once had I “made a bit of difference” … enough … to her so
that Attorney Klutz – full well paid to
do so – had given over to me and to ‘my case’ her thorough and complete
attention, so that Attorney Klutz had –at all – expended on ‘my case’ the absolutely necessary preparatory efforts
for which she had accepted retaining engagement and hire and was … allegedly … working!

I was fucking stunned.Besides Grace and László and everyone else in
on ‘my case’, too!None of us had had
one iota of an inkling, not one fucking smelly smidgen, that Ms. Carlotta Klutz
was, to the bloody, all – encompassing extent that she was, involved in this – other
– deadly case.

Until that TV news screen just
87 hours before the knocking knell sounded from Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor’s
gavel which opened again ‘my own case’, that Polk County situation hadn’t even
entered any of our minds since its first appearance in the Register headlines three months earlier.Fuck, I myself couldn’t even afford the
newspaper nor the time to read it elsewhere anyhow.Everybody called me the very next day to
express their wonderment and concern; we all that Saturday had had no mother –
fucking idea of what was about to foul all over me and my Truemaier Boys with the
start of our own disgusting, deadly and solidly shit – filled impaction:Act Two of The Opera’s Part Two was to begin
promptly at 9:00 o’clock, Tuesday, the 11th day of September, one
day after Lionel’s birthday.Over a
decade before anyone else’s: our very own Tuesday, September the 11th!I did not sleep well that weekend.As anyone who has had loved ones lost because
of their own September 11s can imagine, I was not sleeping very fucking
well.

As bad?One of the major
other reasons that I had fired Mr. Jazzy Jinx had been because of one of the
four, named agencies or persons he had submitted “on my behalf” –– of which one
would be chosen by ‘the Court’ as the custody evaluator for Act Two!That is, another to conduct a second –
a
second – custody evaluation!I am saying that … Mr. Jinx actually “counseled” me that one of those
submitted four should be the name of
Ms. Carrie Canard, “Ya’ know, Legion.So’s the judge, whoever that’ll be, can see that between the first trial
and this one you’re not much concerned about it, ya’ know.Like you’re confident that no matter who does
it, things won’t change.We’ll put her
on last, and it really won’t matter
‘cause there’re the three others named on the list here, and “whoever” takes a
look at this, … well, they won’t even know.They’ll just pick the first one.Trust me.”

I could hardly believe him.This “advice” certainly went wholly against my gut.Buuuut at the time, he was my attorney, and … I – “agreed” to do – that which he said to do:Childless Carrie Canard’s name went down onto the list!And into ‘the Court’!To daMan!

“A true mother’s personal witnesses such as her family and
friends and spiritual advisors and teachers and coaches and the children’s other activities’ sponsors
like their piano lesson teachers, even the family and individual therapists
whom she chose for herself and the Boys, these people testifying at trial matter
not at all, Mr. Jinx!”And,
especially for certain, those of this True mother’s.I know this now.All of their “evidences” … well, … they
be fucked!

Indeed and of course, Jury, allya’all know, doncha’?You can just tell what happened, can’t you? O JYeah, Ms. Canard was again picked by daJudge
… by “whoever” the mother – fuck he was.And, again, she billed –– but for more hours, 15¾.At $85 per each then, the total this go –
round #2 of the Frumpy Mouse’s “industry” came to $1,338.75.Plus the three Boys’ and my time, plus
gasoline, plus telephone toll calls and parking fees in Des Moines, plus all of
the other change – around summer arrangements from the 01st through
the 23rd, the day before Zane’s 14th birthday cake needed
me to bake and decorate it this
particular August.

For more hours Ms. Canard charged this time because she had
wanted now – and so did have – yet another interviewee.Someone who really, really “knew” my sons and
me well and had been a close, close part of our daily lives for a long, long
time, of course?Well … not!
! !The other was none other than the
Next Cunt in the Good and Wonderful Doctor’s Stash so in this, ‘my case’, that
other was now called Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive.As a matter of fact, Ms. McLive received a
passel of Ms. Canard’s attentions including a couple of hours on Jesse’s very
birthday day, the 15th of August!

I remember walking out of her office the very last time I
ever heard from Ms. Carrie Canard on the 23rd – except for that exact last time, that is, except for her
testimony as (literally) mother – fucking “evidence” at September 1990’s Trial Two, “What will you do if you
lose?”

“I shall appeal.”

“O!I don’t think
that’d be ‘in the boys’ interest’ at all, ya’ know, to put them through any
more stress than you already have,” came Ms. Mousey Frump’s backlashing, fuckly
fire right back at me.Ms. Carrie Canard
was actually ordering me not to act against what was her mother – fucking opinion
nor against what was about to happen.She already knew.Before any
study of hers, any reading and rereading, before any thinking through, Childless
Canard already knew what she was going to do to me and to the Truemaier Boys and
to write to ‘The Court’, … to daMan.She
had already decided that, of Jinx’s things that he’d assured me wouldn’t change,
it was her so unlived opinion about my and my Kiddos’ lives that wasn’t going
to change.And not only had I lost in
Canard’s so male – identified arena, it was soon to be equally known in ‘just’
whose other similarly identified, sexist arena I had already lost as well.

Just?Hardly.Hardly justice.Hence, my backsliding and the deal that
deeper and deeper sleep was now mightily difficult to come by.

Charmed so by Tonguey Herry, Ms. Cherry Canard pulled a
truly fast one right off.The very first
sentence of her second, subsequent Report,
addressing “some important changes in Dr. Edinsmaier’s life,” stated that Herry
– Daddee was “now in a new mothering relationship for his children,” ! ! ! … the one that, for the time being at least, “makes him happy!”

So, … in so many – of few – words: of the old one, of the old relationship, of that
of The
First Family, of itshappiness and health …
of all of that? All of that … be fucked!

For the women unwilling to
become one like himself, to become a consorting homeland terrorist like Dr. Herod
Edinsmaier and such other violent abusers, these women are referred to the
online resources of some friends of mine:to Floridian and Attorney ms. liz’s web university of www.thelizlibrary.org, to Massachusetts
researcher, author and commentator Ms. Trish’s site of www.florida-family-lawyers.com/trishwilson/interactivist.html,

to the infuriating www.cincinnatipas.com and to www.echidne-of-the-snakes.com for
Truth’s rational, reasoned and balanced lessons on The Primary Parent, How Not to Become the Next One in His Stash,
Who is The Mom – and Who So Ain’t?Fake – Fuck and Pedophile – Sponsoring
Richard Gardner and his Spurious “Parental Alienation Syndrome” Now Universally
Foisted By America’s “Legal” System … But Only Upon DEhumans.

But, most importantly for learning and understanding about the
essence and being of –– about the status and condition of –– The
First Family.And Why
Daddee, Why Patriarchy is Really Behind It
All.Behind It … HIS Mother –
Fucking.

Any willing women of Mehitable’s favorite “soft, servile and
submissive” genre but unable to get their hands on her textbook could most
certainly take their lessons in becoming male – identified females from either
or both Ms. Canard and Ms. McLive.Quite
improved might be their lots, particularly monetarily as a matter of fact, if, while in their men’s lives before
honing their courtesan skills, they first became thoroughly trained in the
complete and utter dissing of the real and true mother of … The
First Family.

Ms. Canard, with none of her nor of Fannie Issicran McLive’s
life experiences and educations whatsoever akin to ours, began her settled
“facts” of the Truemaier Boys and of me to The Court at the very last of her Report.She entitled it, also in capital letters with
all other emphases including quotation marks hers and not mine, the “CONCERNS PRESENTED by the MOTHER and the
CHILDREN” and only included in her vituperative account, a diatribe against me
really, at least five direct references [count ‘em!] to anger.Yet … the allegedly professional Ms. Canard
gave absolutely no referencing whatsoever at all over to the veracity of
“Dr. True’s primary concern.”

Child custody – “evaluating,” childless Carrie Canard wrote
thusly then, “Dr. True’s primary concern is that contact with Dr. Edinsmaier
and Ms. McLive will jeopardize the boys’ ‘recovery’ from what she considers
their codependent roles in their father’s ‘sex addiction’ and ‘romance intrigue
addiction.’She believes that her ex –
husband, as a ‘sex addict’, is inherently untrustworthy in caring for their
children.She is most concerned about
the boys, especially Zane, becoming like their father and engaging in behaviors
that she feels are self – destructive.Dr. True believes that Dr. Edinsmaier reinforces irresponsible behavior
in the children.In fact, she cited
several examples of Dr. Edinsmaier’s behavior which she feels placed the
children in jeopardy by exposing them to sexual addiction.For example, she stated that Dr. Edinsmaier
helped Zane order Playboy magazines
in the past and has shown the boys materials that she considers
pornographic.

Dr. Edinsmaier has admitted to her that he fantasized about
other women during their marriage.Dr.
True believes that Dr. Edinsmaier is an exhibitionist, walking in front of
windows with the blinds open in the nude and wearing jeans with holes located
in inappropriate places.

In addition, Dr. True is currently angry about the way she
was treated by Dr. Edinsmaier during their marriage.For example, she emphasized what she
perceived as his lack of sensitivity in accommodating to her hearing
impairment.Dr. True is proud of the
boys’ respectful and sensitive attention to this disability of hers.

Dr. True is also angry because the boys were not informed in
greater detail of their father’s plans to remarry, and she feels that Mirzah is
often anxious because of uncertainty regarding his relationship with his
father.Dr. True believes that children
should be informed at all stages of their parents’ relationships and that
children’s feelings and opinions should be of utmost importance in considering
whether or not an adult relationship continues.

Dr. True stated that she does not want Zane, Jesse, and
Mirzah to adjust to their stepfamily situation because she views it as
inappropriate and dysfunctional.For
example, she is concerned that the boys are not seeing a healthy husband and
wife relationship modeled by their father and stepmother because she views Ms.
McLive as ‘servile and submissive’ to Dr. Edinsmaier.She also expressed concern about reports from
the boys that their father shows favoritism to his stepdaughter.

Dr. True is angry because her ex – husband has not paid for
the family therapy in a timely fashion.She also believes that he is trying to modify the current custody
arrangement solely in order to avoid child support payments, which are
currently $1,800 per month.

Dr. True voiced grave concern about this examiner’s ability
to assess the family situation from her perspective.She was frustrated with her effects [her word
… and not what it should have been:‘efforts’]
to educate the public about addictions.

Zane, Jesse, and Mirzah voiced numerous complaints and
concerns about their father, his new wife, and their new stepsister.These points were presented by one or more of
the boys during the interviews.They
believe that their father just wants custody in order to look good and doesn’t
really want the boys.Examples cited to
support this point of view included his tendency to not pay for collect phone
calls from the boys or for their family therapy with their mother.Closely related are their resentments about
the decrease in their father’s attention and time since his remarriage, hostile
feelings toward Mary Jane, and anger at their father for not siding with them
in arguments with Mary Jane.Their anger
toward their father since his remarriage seems to have increased the emotional
distance from him and led to more open criticism of him, especially by the
older boys.In turn, they are frustrated
with his lack of openness in responding to their questions and
accusations.They feel a lack of trust
in their father for keeping their mail that they receive from their mother
during visits.Likewise, they perceive
their father’s lack of trust in them that contributes to his evasiveness in
answering their questions.

They are also concerned about having to move and to switch
school if their father gains primary physical care.Each child stated that he does not want to
move.

Zane, Jesse, and Mirzah feel that their mother needs them
more than their father does and might be too depressed if they weren’t with
her.This sense of worry about the
emotional well – being of the parent was not expressed about the boys’ father,
only their mother.They are also
concerned that Dr. True would continue Court action if their father gained
primary physical care, and the conflict between their parents would only
escalate.

The boys expressed concern about losing some of their
mother’s attention if she begins to date, as she has indicated.They feel reassured that they will get to
determine if her relationship with a man continues or not.In general, Zane, Mirzah, and Jesse were
concerned because they often feel that neither parent is listening or attending
to their needs and desires, and they worry that the conflict between their
parents will continue regardless of where they live or what they do.They also worry about their own potential for
developing addictions of various kinds.”

Zane and Jesse then stated to me they never told Ms. Carrie Canard
that they were at all concerned about future litigation nor “continued Court
action if their father gained primary physical care” but had insisted to her
instead that, if he did get their physical custody, then … they
wanted me to!Likewise,
Mirzah had said only to Ms. Canard that “Mama would be sad and do anything to
get us back.”

When Ms. Canard entered her “SUMMARY and RECOMMENDATIONS,” I
just had to guffaw!Could not help it!“Ms. McLive was given the MMPI.Her test results fall well within normal
limits and present no concerns regarding her parenting abilities.”What the fuck?!What the fuck did Ms. Canard specifically
know, let alone, know from the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory,
about Ms. McLive’s looooong, longstanding history of panic and anxiety attacks,
her bouts by her own admission to me with “severe PMS,” her medical record of morbid
and gross obesity – “310 pounds and more,” she herself had stated– and how she was “managing” that by those
carving – off – the – fat and stomach – stapling surgeries she’d undergone, her
other innumerable physical health problems, her failure to reconcile with that
older, adopted daughter of hers after a probable incestuous attack upon her own
person or upon the daughter’s or upon the both of them – after that child, when
shortly a legal adult, had married a man of massively questionable and abusive,
thuggish repute.A daughter whom none of
my own sons had ever even met one time in person then.Or,
since.Thankfully!

Of all of the fucking –– UNtrue, UNprofessional –– things to
write about this entirely fucked – up entity known as Ms. Fannie Issicran
McLive, the Next Cunt in Herry’s Stash, “… results fall well within normal limits
and present no concerns regarding her parenting abilities” had to be just the
most … idiotic imaginable.

I just could not stop laughing … this soon – to – be – Court
– sanctioned idiocy grieved me so.

Ms. Canard continued, “Of grave concern is Dr. True’s
vehement position that the honesty or trustworthiness of the children in
interactions with their father is not important because he is ‘inherently
untrustworthy’ because he is a ‘sex addict.’This may give the boys the message that integrity is a situation –
specific quality, one that can be discarded with ease in certain justified
instances.Dr. True holds the position
that the boys should not adjust to the stepfamily situation because this
implies acceptance of a dysfunctional lifestyle and places them at risk.Her position overlooks an important
developmental function which is to experience various types of social
relationships [“ … even ones known to be abusive relationships?!” I query!],
learn to function within them, and evaluate them based on one’s own personal
experiences.These boys need to have
permission from their mother to decide how they feel about their stepmother and
stepsisters [plural hers], as well as their father, without pressure from
her.Dr. True’s attempt to prevent the
development of healthy relationships between the boys and their stepfamily may
cause them to question their own perceptions of reality and foster guilt
feelings.Allowing such individuation is
a difficult but essential step in promoting healthy identity development and
social skills in children.

Dr. True emphasizes the need to understand concepts of
codependency and sexual addiction in order to understand her family.She seems convinced that any negative
consequences the children are experiencing, such as feelings of distrust or
anxiety, are due to their father.Unfortunately, the intensity of distrust

among these family members has resulted in Dr. Edinsmaier
and Ms. McLive violating important boundaries by reading the children’s mail from
their mother.This is done with the best
of intentions; and while

Dr. Edinsmaier appears to have handled his distrustful
feelings when questioned by the boys in a way that heightens their anxiety
rather than reassures them, he has made attempts to improve his parenting skills
and foster his relationships with Zane, Jesse, and Mirzah.However, their resentment over his remarriage
and conflicts with their stepsister have left the boys feeling that their
relationship with their father has weakened, especially in recent months.The move and space constraints for the boys
in the new house fuel their dissatisfaction with their father and
stepfamily.Likewise, their mutual
animosity towards Mary Jane has served to unite the brothers and to minimize
their own differences and conflicts.”

“Evaluating” Canard actually finished her Reportwith this violent mother –
deprivation mother – fuck, “The prognosis for a successful
transition into the primary physical care of their father is more guarded at this time than perhaps at any time in the life of
this family (my italics!).However,
based on the information gathered in this evaluation, such a move would be ‘in
the best interest of these children.’While there are indeed aspects of Dr. Edinsmaier’s behavior that must be
addressed in his relationship with his sons and there will no doubt be intense
conflict in the process of integrating the boys into the stepfamily routine,
such a move would provide the children some much needed distance from their
mother.”

I say, “She and hers, anything hers including that friggin’
‘primary concern’ of hers, be … mother – fucked!”

Whatever makes Daddee, daMan, happy.Daddy the Community Pillar, that daddee.

“One option, rarely considered by this examiner, may be
appropriate in this case.If the Court
becomes convinced that Dr. True is not likely to change her pattern of
interactions with the children and believes that their well – being is
jeopardized by continued exposure to her, then supervised visits with their
mother are recommended.”

And for the precious sake of her, the American state government’s,
Ms. McLive’s and Pillar Edinsmaier’s all perpetuating the violence of silence
and secrecy against a True mother, Childless Canard concluded her aria in The
Opera with The Grand Finale of all sentences, “Finally this examiner asks for
the support of the Court to ensure that this report is not disclosed to
extended family members or other unauthorized individuals.Sincerely,” Signed __ Male – Identified
Frumpy Mouse Canard __ .JYeah, Riiiight.

Trial Two was open and shut … its result.

Case closed.Even before
Ms. Carlotta Klutz, likewise liveried as when she had smiled before her Friday
cameras but in appropriate black this week, had actually called the first
person to witness in front of the same judge, Sol Wacotler Seizor, the one who
had sequestered so effectively in that sanitarium for drunks his own first wife
–– away from her own four babies.I
recall hoisting my corpse into the witness stand with orbits blackened from the
running mascara, true, but also from the now complete absence for nights and
nights of refreshing slumber.

Even before opening my ‘witnessing’ mouth to give forth from
it ‘evidence’, I saw in daMan’s facial countenance his already decided judgment as he lowered his eyes and looked away
from me.I raised a

tears –smeared right
hand to make the testimony affirmation of The Truth to … The Court.His
court,

that is.It was
Friday shortly after 1 pm, and he announced to the assembled which included in
the gallery Ms. McLive on Herry’s side and about ten friends on mine that he,
daJudge –– the same judge as in Trial One was this time … this second time around …not going to hear from and not
going to listen to … my Boys.

At all.

Not a word whatsoever.

I shot Grace our all – knowing, leveled glance between each
other.Her lower jaw dropped but just
ever so slightly; then her whole head followed in its direction, her eyes never
leaving mine.Grace and Lionel did notneed to bring the Truemaier Boys over
to the courthouse from their respective schools.Not a word from any one of My Three was daJudge
going to listen to … in Act Two.Judge
Seizor didn’t need not only the Boys’ expressions and declarations and opinions
although Jesse and Zane were 12 and 14, and Mirzah was about to turn 11 on the
28th day of September, Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor wasn’t even going
to –– and did not –– direct the court reporter –– even just one time
–– to repeat back to him for his ‘concerted’ study and ‘thorough’ review from that
stenographic machine’s multiple strips of hers … any of my
words either.

****

A good, good job opened up in late August and I took a stab
at it.Monday through Friday, every
weekend off, only daytime hours, no nights ever, great benefits, a wonderful
vacation and sick leave policy, a county government position, completely suited
to me as the detail person that I am, a great deal to demonstrate

to a district court judge as my trying to support my
children yet still be very available to them all physically.And at nearly $32,000 per annum in salary to
start!

One catch.Of course.
–– I had to win the upcoming November 1990, midterm election for it.The actual position? –– Recorder for Storm
County, running against a Republican Party incumbent who not only had been 12
years in the post then already but is still there in it today 13 more years
later and doing, now, the great job at it that she had always performed.Over Labor Day weekend, the Boys and I even
donned royal blue tees with my name in white lettering on them and waved my
official cobalt blue and white yard signs

in the courthouse town’s Lincoln Days’ Parade.We campaigned ourselves right down its main
street, America’s actual federal Lincoln Highway, with cardboard bucket loads
of wrapped hard candies to throw the eager youngsters!Answered local reporters’ questions, had my
picture taken and my platform for office, such as it was, published in the Ames Tribune and other publications
around Storm County.It would be a very
good, very supporting deal for an
intelligent mother of three children.The recorders in Iowa, after all, even handled all of the counties’
hunting and fishing license records for the State, a factual detail that had
not escaped either Zane, Jesse or me!

By Sunday, 16 September, I was on the phone at 5 in the
morning, “I need Lionel to drive me to the hospital emergency room, Grace.No, … none.Not really.Not since Thursday
night, and even before I testified on Friday it wasn’t in solid chunks, ya’ know.I don’t think I should risk driving there
myself.Dr. Narod won’t come out to the
house and give me a shot; I called him at home.He told me I had to come into the ER.Just three days.Good.I’ve already waked up the Boys and told them.No, no need to call László just now; please
do so, though, later on this morning.I’ll be waiting outside for Lionel then.O, and Grace?Thanks.Thanks ever so much, Grace.”

What I had told each child at his bedside was that this –– this–– was the way in which one should go
about getting medicines legally and healthily –– when one needed drugs in order
to fall asleep.That one shouldn’t just
slither on down to the goddamn street corner and score truly unknowns off of some
dealer – hawker there.“I’ll only be
three days, I promise.Lionel’s coming
for me and Grace is coming over, too, until you wake up today.Then she’ll take all of you over to their
place, and she and Lionel’ll take good care of you for me.I’ve left Grandpa and Grandma’s and
Margaret’s numbers, too, on the kitchen table, Zane.Take those with to Grace’s when you go – just
in case you all or she needs them.Now
just go on back to sleep, Babe.”Hug.Hug.Hug.Kiss.Kiss.Kiss.Times three.“I’ll be back in
three days.By Wednesday for sure.”

“Three days and nights,
Margaret.That’s all I need.The Boys are with my best friends, the
Portias –– Grace and Lionel, from down here in The Teacup.Tell Abraham and Adam before Meeting centers
this morning.Tell them both that I went
just now for some help to sleep, would you please, Margaret?No, we haven’t heard, not officially.But I know.I know.Hell, you were there,
too, Margaret.You saw.You heard what went on.”

“If I can do anything … O.If, … if you were not
hysterical, Legion, then … then is when I would be
worried about you!My god, Woman; he is
taking your children!” I have never, never forgotten Margaret Sagely’s sorrow
hurtling at me over the wires and through my telephone receiver.

Times three.I would never, never, never dismiss as
nothing the suffering of a mother who, with one child lost, sits and sits and
sits and rocks and rocks and rocks her way back up to the surface of this
holocaustic cesspool, I would not.I
would not.But with three lost?Now that’s something.Mirzah was exactly spot – on, “Mama would be so
sad and do anything to get us back.”I
started to before I even knew for sure that I had lost them.

Act Two Part Two.“I
can’t sleep.There’s been a trial; it’s
about my kids, and I just can’t sleep.Umm,

I’d say it’s been, … O, a full night’s?Well, probably three weeks or more.It feels like I could sleep forever.By the way, thanks a lot for that $50, Bob!That was really generous.The campaign?O, so – so.Kinda suspended for
right now, I guess.I just can’t get
rid of the adrenal surges long enough to get to sleep.

Let alone, for a long, long time.Why is that, Doctor?”

“Experienced this before, Legion?”

“Yeah, once.Long,
long time ago.Something bothers me a
lot, Bob, I just don’t let go of it enough to fall asleep.Ya’ know, soundly.Like deep, deep.”

“Okay, well, Legion, I’m … I’m going to admit you since
that’s what you want, right?”

“Well, no.Actually.No.I’d like you to give me something in my own
bed, so I could sleep there.In my own
bed.”

“Uh – uh, we just don’t do that anymore, Legion.I’ll have to admit you for injections, and
that’s really the only way that I can make sure you can have enough to actually
get you the sleep that you need.Here –
fill this out; it’s for the best, don’t you agree?”

I did not agree; but, obviously, … I had no choice.

And I liked my doctor, Dr. Narod, a lot:Bob and I had gone through the seventh and
eighth grades together, and he was an obstetrician and gynecologist just like
his own father before him.He truly,
truly liked women and respected us; so had his dad, now deceased.

Over my protestations, Lionel besought me to walk inside the
hospital to the emergency room with me –– into Dr. Narod’s care, “Legion, it’s
nothing.Really.I can just accompany you inside in case you
need something, ya’ know.”

But I had resolutely stood there beside Lionel in the
parking lot of the hospital’s emergency room and told him that I had by that
time bothered him and Grace quite enough with my needs and that he should
return home to her.“Besides,” I managed
a sidewise smile, “you’ve got Mirzah, Jesse and Zane for the next three days,
Bucko.You’ve already done enough for me
this morning, Lionel.Thanks ever
though!”

And just exactly as I was soooo, so used to doing the things
that simply needed doing –– that simply needed to get done –– when I was
married to Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, I walked inside those hospital walls … alone.

Biiiiiiig , big
mistake!

Cuz now?Now, … I had
no witness.

In addition to all that Lionel had just done for me and, along
with Grace, was about to do more, Lionel also could have been my much – needed
witness to all of the events … which next transpired.But how would I know to even need one?!How would I know to need a witness to go to
the doctor, for chris’sake?! As it unfolded, it clearly became only my word, alone,
against theirs of the hospital staff.Again.Big, big hoping and
trusting fuckup of mine!Again!

We DEhumans are so addicted to both … dangerously –– even
lethally –– addicted.To both hope and
trust.

Directly from that cubicle in the ER then, I was wheeled up to
a place in the hospital called The Sixth Floor.Its loftiest level, I could barely move, and it was now 6:30 am so with
the employees’ change of shift, I could understand why no one was immediately attending
to getting me a soporific injection and off into a bed for sleep.But soon it was 7:30 am, and I still remained
on the sofa in an anteroom next door to The Sixth Floor Nurses’ Station.Still I sat.And sat.And sat.And nobody came.I just sat.I could not read because my eyes would not focus; for over a week now
Grace had been worried for me, worried about just that very aspect –– among so
many, many others –– of my sleep deprivation.

Finally then around 10 am a caucasian woman of ordinariness
in a white coat sat directly in front of me on her own separate chair holding a
clipboard with papers on it in one hand and a pen in the other.She grilled –

in a kindly tone – yes; but hell, I had already answered all
of these same friggin’ questions hours ago now down in the emergency room,
hadn’t I?I was left thinking, “Where’s
the shot, for chris’sake?! And the bed?!I need to crawl in a bed somewhere, get the medicine injected and get to
sleep, don’t I?!Back down in the ER that’d
been the plan Dr. Narod and I had gone with as … ‘for the best,’ wasn’t
it?Where was Dr. Narod anyhow?, O yeah,
the clock in the Nurses’ Station says it’s 10:30; he must be at his
office.Aaah, no … no – correction here,”
I amended my soooo sleep – deprived mind, “it’s Sunday.He’s left the building; he’s long gone away
like all of those other I – don’t – work – weekends’ folks!”

Ordinary Worker Woman continued on and on and on.I answered her questions the best that I
could but, “Jeesh, cut me some slack here.”Then she left.

There were a lot of people it
seemed just milling about back and forth … rather aimlessly.And no one appeared particularly dressed for
work I thought.I again waited,
expecting a bed and some help real, real soon.“For sure, not?”I thought, as a
lot of pairs of eyes, too, were evidently aimed every now and then, kind of
fleeting – like, in my direction.“Don’t
get paranoid, Legion,” I told myself.“Wouldn’t Herry just love to see me paranoid about now!?Whoooa, what a heyday he’d make out with that
one to Ms. Canard!To Judge Seizor!He and Ms. Folie Fannie would have a hoot
over that, wouldn’t they?” I remember musing to myself.

That same clock’s hands pointed to 3; it was 3 fucking
pm!Not only was it Sunday afternoon,
now a full ten hours since I’d first telephoned Grace; but the workers’ shifts
were changing yet again one more time!And
now double the pairs of eyes were
sometimes affixed upon me on the couch –– still sitting in the anteroom
right next to The Sixth Floor Nurses’ Station.

Off of the stand beside the divan, I picked up that particular
day’s usually thick morning newspaper and rolled it over into a baton, arose out
of that sofa’s seat, strode on over to them all huddled up in their clutch of a
shift – change “Report” and, in front of goddess and everyone else around,
banged repeatedly my new witchy wand upon their clearly o – so shatterproof
windowsill, “Get me some goddamn drugs and a bed!

OOO, four of ‘em! And I mean yesterday!They were – all four of ‘em – on me like yesterday!Four men.

All in white, head to toe, except for their trouser
belts.Even their tennis shoes.I soooo had me the drugs and the bed!Well, had them
… sort of, shall I say.

Two on my upper body and torso with my breasts and left
cheek crushing into the bare mattress flung once upon a time … before me … onto
the equally bare floor and one fellow squarely squatted on top of both of my
thighs, his buttocksy behind covering all of mine nearly.Except for Manly Man #4 yanking down my
underpants and jabbing the hypodermic full throttle into that particular left cheek.Lights … soooo, so out!

I slept.

Fuck knows what I looked like those three days.Those … three
slumbering days!Because I certainly
don’t know what I looked like.I
awakened.The doctor’s chart note, the
one that I myself and a whole passel of other people would later read as well, described
me simply as … “a changed individual.”

Well, I’ll say!“Sleep’s
good.Sleep’ll do that for ya’!”And a whole lot of it can, when one’s had
almost none of it, well, … change you.Ask any military torturer or terrorist.Or, as a matter of fact, the victims so
tortured!Ask them.Or, for further ‘evidence’, ask any celebrity
or sports figure on tour or on the road who collapses and drops from exhaustion
and needs a few days in the clink or off somewhere at a secluded yet glitzy,
mountain – air spa for some badly needed rest.Ask all of those folks about whom we read in the Sunday celeb and sports
sections nearly every week!There were
probably even such stories in the caduceus which I had spontaneously sculpted out
of that specific daily’s chunky, rolled – over newspaper!

I was no longer inside the rubber room either.Someone, and most likely those particular,
peculiar four men, had carried me into a regular hospital bed in a regular
room.Or so it seemed.And the door was not locked.Not that door, the bedroom’s door.The ones, however, that led out and off of The
Sixth Floor altogether?Now those three,
stacked doors, one right after the previous and parallel other one, they all were locked.

I, of course, was in the goddamn, mother - fucking psych
ward, and I now knew it, too.Come to
find out –– a lot later, of course –– that had I not pitched my successful
albeit witchy hissy – fit, it would’ve been even more hours that I would have
been left there on that sofa to languish and rot.

And I was being
watched.All along when I’d thought I
was being watched?I had not been … ‘paranoid’. Indeed, I was being surveilled.Was I ever!For signs and symptoms of illicit drug ingestion or whatever the hell allya’all
call it when one snorts, shoots up, stashes stuff inside their vagina or rectum
or otherwise takes street shit inside themselves.Also for alcohol.Poisoning?Abuse?Hell, I didn’t know.I didn’t even drink much, one or two glasses
of wine a month – if I were lucky enough to be able to go out for Italian.Ya’ know, like with a spaghetti dinner!For my own personal drinking purposes, well,
we certainly could not afford! for me to purchase any booze to just have it on
hand!There hadn’t been a bottle or a can
of anything liquor – like in the house for nearly two years or more!Hardly a drop even of soda pop, as a matter
of fact.

Just as I had explained to Mirzah, Jesse and Zane at their
bedsides, immediately before Lionel’s chauffeuring me to the ER’s entry, never
to do –– never to go buy a dope dealer’s crud for one’s problems –– I had been, myself, observed for these very
abuses.I was blown away.Then, again, I had had no witness, let alone,
one to vouch for me and for my ‘everyday’ conduct:gracious and generous and offering Lionel had
not come inside with me.

I went to the same window glass of the Nurses’ Station and
asked to see Dr. Narod.“Well, he’s not
here, and, anyhow, he’s not your doctor.”

“O whaaaaat?You’re
in the psych ward, Sweetie, you’re not having a baby, for goodness’ sake!Oooooor,

are you?!”Roar,
roar, roar.The three of them gathered
there split out into guffaws at Ward Clerk Blatherer’s off – the – cuff mockery
of me.

“I want to see Dr. Narod.”

“Uh – uh.That idn’t
gonna happen.”

“What?I need to see
Dr. Narod.”

“I saaaaid NO!That
is not going to happen, Legion True!Er, eeeh – scuuuuse me: … Doooooctor Legion
Truuuuue! … it says here on your chart, dudn’t it?”He turned and smirked at the other two also sniggering
through my title and my last name.Snidely
First Blatherer finished, “I’ll tell your doctor you wanna see her, but you
will not be seeing Dr. Narod.Dr. Bassenthwaite’s your doctor now, and she’s
busy with office hours.She’ll probably
stop by later –– after 5 or somethin’.”

So unknowingly slogged I, after those three terrific
soporific nights and days, into … another
entirefortnight! at the SpaChezResort
Hotel Sixth Floor.Dr. Bassenthwaite did
come around that evening, a person whom I liked right off.She informed me that she’d had a call from
some attorney who was representing me.

“O, Ms. Klutz?You’ve
heard from Ms. Klutz?!”

“Well, yes, I have; but that’s not the lawyer I’m talking
about now.”

“Ah, um, with Ms. Klutz.With Ms. Klutz, Doctor, what did she say?Has the order come down?Is it back?Did she say?”

“She didn’t.No.She called, in fact, to say that it wasn’t
back yet actually.”

“What?O.O.I
see.Jeesh.Umm.” I was despondent but not wanting to
show the doctor this face, of course.I
mean I liked her, but I didn’t know her like I knew Bob Narod so how could I
trust her?“What’d you say?” I
remembered now, something about some other lawyer.

“Did you sleep well, Legion?You seemed to.Did you, do you
think?” Dr. Bassenthwaite eluded, evaded.I did not like this.“Do you know what day this is?”

“Well, yeah!I’ll
say!I loved it.It was great.I feel great.That’s just what I
needed.It is what I came to see Dr. Narod for in the first place.And, ah, … yeah, as a matter of fact, I do
know the day:it’s Wednesday.Wednesday, the 19th.”

“Um – hmm.It is,”
the doctor nodded nicely, her tone rather a bit syrupy I reckoned.

“So, Doctor Bassenthwaite.My kids, I haven’t talked to them yet.But I won’t really need to make but one telephone call.They’re with friends, and the husband’ll come
get me tonight so can I go do that now then?”

“Ah, no, I don’t believe he will be coming for you tonight.”

“O Yes!Yes, he
will.He promised.Anything I need he and Grace, his wife?They’ll do it.Lionel will come.”

“Ah, … noooo, he won’t.”Evasion, elusion.

“What the fuck is she saying?What the fuck is going on here?” I pondered
and purposefully maneuvered my hearing ear, my right ear, closer to this
doctor’s lip direction, “What do you mean?”

“No, he isn’t.He
most certainly is not.I know Mr.
Zaffar, and he’s cool.He’s all right,
but he is not my lawyer.What are you talking about?!Why’d he call you anyhow?!What is
somebody I have not hired talking to my
doctor for, a doctor by the way whom I haven’t even hired –– either!” I was
getting righteously pissed –– to say the fucking least!

Come to find out, ‘the Court’ had appointed an attorney for me.Mr. Dario Zaffar.That’d be the
same

‘the Court’ of Storm County, of course.And the same Mr. Dario Zaffar whom I had
known for a long, long time from party politics and from high school, as a
matter of fact, a tall, dark drink of water whom, for what

I knew of him through those long – ago channels, I
liked.For a lawyer anyhow, no shyster
he.That I knew of.And I liked his wife, a biology technician at
the University.She and he had had three
little ones, bang, bang and bang, too.“Whatever the hell for?”

“What the …, ‘an emergency hearing’, you say?!Wha’ … Whatever are you talking about?I think you’d better tell me straight up now,
Dr Bassenthwaite.Now what do you mean
just exactly here?And why the hell do you know all of this anyhow and I don’t
even know any of it yet?Why is that exactly, huh?Why?! … an emergency hearing?Why?What the hell is that all about?” I feigned dumbfoundedness as I
surmised was expected of me.But –– in
that very instant – I knew.I knew
what an ‘emergency hearing’ meant.I so
knew just exactly what was going on!

Come to find out, quite a mother – fucking bit had been
going on out those Sixth Floor triplet doors of this locked – up – tighter –
than – a – drum Hotel during all of those nights and days of mine off in sweet,
sweet somnolence.It’s an ol’, ol’ story
though; and most folks already know of it, we DEhumans, very, very many

of us, having already lived it ourselves.

And I certainly did know it, too, now –– almost at that
specific, earlier bolt – like slug of hers:Back there at Dr. Bassenthwaite’s exhortation of, “No, he won’t… ,” … meaning,
the ‘good’ doctor had been, that Lionel Portia would not be coming for me – –

– –buuuut … that the
Manly Man White Coats would be.If.If.

Hadn’t taken much convincing to daJudge, to daMan who himself
had removed his own daughters’ mother remotely from those girls’ residential
vicinity, for Herry to sway this man and get an invocation in to him for a real
bit of Southern – applied, maternal – deprivation aprovechar here, “Just let me
see here how much further I can fuck her over!To take advantage of and to swindle the shit out of this situation of
hers!The Cunt’s sleep – deprived and
utterly exhausted, O JYeah!Judge Seizor
already’s seen her crying; he’s seen her blubbering.Now she’s in this joint.Not a prison but
no clinic clink either.Hey, get the Twat
sent up the river for good I can.With
Scheisser’s maneuvering, we can get this done – and no one’s the wiser!Certainly not Zane, Jesse and Mirzah!Cheap, too!Won’t even cost me!It’ll all be
‘on the county!’Hey, go for it,
Shindy!Get her!Unstable.Unfit.Crazy.Loony Tunes.Get her!Gut her!Gut the goddamn Bitch right in her friggin’
belly!Get her put away.The Cunt won’t be dead – but shit!That
–– permanent maternal – deprivation from her sons –– that’ll do it. That’ll be just as good as dead!Work it, Baby!Work it!What’s that cadence again now, ya’ know, the one we in the military all
march so well to, ‘You can take a woman, Cut the bitch in two; I can fuck the
lower half and give the upper half to you!’Yeeaah!Work it, Scheisser!”

Same ol’ control, dominion and domination fuckover of the
DEhuman as that of the last 12 or so millennia ...

Two more weeks in
this very palace at the least or?Or … I was to be placed smack – dab on the fast track to Cherokee.The very next day.

That would be Cherokee
State Mental Hospital hidden from the public’s cognizance in the far upper
northwest quadrant of the state, at least a full and contorted three hours’ –
plus drive away from Ames.

There –– to be hauled, locked away and, most certainly, to forever
be forgotten all about! –– cuz it was obvious to every man, to all pillared men for sure, wasn’t it?i) Legion True was nothin’ if not wholly rode
hard and put up wet.ii) She –– that
Whore –– deserved this.

A place –– Cherokee
–– about which I had often, often heard ever since I first was a rebel teen and
had also at such rebellious times been threatened
with incarceration there by some not – so – witty persons of Mehitable’s
acquaintance, “O, once inside, Sweetie, you don’t see the light of day again!And your family, Girl?Ha!That’s
the last they’ve seen of you, too!”That is what I had known of Cherokee.For just years and years and years.

“Sign ‘em.You’ll wanna
be signin’ ‘em,” the lawman as rotund as his name proclaimed.

Looming from around the obese sheriff’s backside at about 6’6”,
Mr. Dario Zaffar was quietly nodding, too, and trying unsuccessfully to
smile.“At least another two weeks,
Legion.That’s what the doctor’s
saying.Please.You’d better sign.It could get bad if you don’t.Real bad.It’s nice to see you again, by the way, Legion.”At least Mr. Zaffar, unlike the fat fuck of a
“peace” officer in front of him, not only could look straight into my eyes but
also actually address me by my first name!Twice!

I did.I signed.That was Wednesday evening, 19 September 1990:
the “Wednesday” of exactly when I had
promised to all three of my Boys that I would be home to them again.Instead, of course, AmTaham and Mehitable
were called and motored right up to take the Truemaier grandsons back over from
Grace and Lionel’s to Havencourt where Mehitable, for the second time in my
adult life, immediately proceeded to

set about rearranging our entire home –– starting, of course
again, with my kitchen drawers’ compositions.I’ve never known for sure how it was that Mehitable already knew, when telephoned to please come up, thatI was not
around the condo and the Boys that week, whether it was from Zane or Jesse or
Mirzah –– or from Herry and Fannie Issicran McLive.But she did.She knew.

Dr. Bassenthwaite assured me over and over as did Dr. Narod
the couple of times in that 15 days’ stint –– “hospitalized away” –– when he
actually did visit me on The Sixth Floor, too, that this information had not
gotten to Mehitable from them nor from any of the hospital personnel.Staff had had strict orders from the doctors
and from me not to speak to her.And its workers had not the doctors pledged to me.Anyway, it was (alleged … ) to be the hospital’s and its medical records’
departmental policy.At 42½, I was a friggin’
adult after all, and they (again allegedly … ) could not release information to
anyone – simply by that fact alone.Indeed, one of the nurses in a chart note ––
a copy of all of which for my own ‘research’
in preparation to later be able to rebut Mr. Shindy Scheisser in ‘the Court’ I
eventually had had to buy for myself
… 20 bucks! … –– described just even Mehitable’s conversational
mannerisms to the ward’s staff members when she telephoned them, which they told
me she frequently did do, as … “dithering.”

How the fuck had I ended up on The Sixth Floor ward in the
first goddamn place?!From Dr. Narod, my
‘good, good man – doctor – pillar’!“It feels like I
could sleep forever.”That’s how!Dr. Narod had written on the hospital’s admission
note beside that quotation, the one back down in the emergency room which had
been my bleary – eyed, lids – at – half – mast answer to his query of how I
felt, “Legion expresses suicidal ideation!” … something I never, ever had stated!

But.But I?!I, a mere DEhuman
– girlchil’ – peon?A looooong, long
– time adult though I so be?!I … had had no witness!“No,” I had told Lionel before walking inside
alone, “I can do this all by myself.But
thanks ever so much anyhow, Lionel.”

“What the fuck!?Suicide?That is friggin’ puissant,
Dr. Narod!What a stupid thing, what a
contrived, arrogant and so – male assumption!
for you to have gone and written down?!!Why the fuck had I had Lionel drive me in to the ER if I didn’t care
about living or dying?Or, better yet,
if I’d really wanted to kill myself, then I should bloody well have driven myself to the hospital’s
emergency room; I could’ve maybe killed a few other people in the process and
taken them on down out of their frickin’ miseries, too, for chris’sake!”

For someone whom I had trusted
for quite some time, the $50 that Dr. Narod had contributed to my short – lived
political campaign was – now – peanuts.Why, it took me, at 15 frigging dollars a month and never more than
that, until the end of 1998, to retire the entire amount of that hospital bill
balance!The county pay?As Herry had likely fantasized?!The county pay for this forced and
unjustified incarceration, this jailing?!Fuck, the county didn’t pay; I had had to!I had had to sign away two mother – fucking
weeks of my life! –– as well as to pay these bullyingly entitled mother –
fuckers to take it from me, too!And
suffer threat and fear of the Cherokee
life imprisonment and, therefore, loss of everything including my very physical
freedom besides.I was to lose all of my rights ––
including the one to parent my own Children.How was this at all U.S. Constitutional?!!!Herry was behind this.His mark was all over it.As Andrea Dworkin buttresses about documents not
working if they aren’t, as well, working for women, “How
was this at all constitutional?!!!”

The medical employees were under siege, too, some said.Because of lawsuits as well.The hospital and the psychiatric ward’s
specific staffers including both its nurses and the doctors. If they had given me something for sleep right
away that first Sunday morning early and I had been drinking alcohol or had had
something else in my system –– and all of that together had interacted badly,
even fatally, –– why, then the hospital might have been liable.Or, that
had been the story that one of the nurses there told me much, much later.She also had children at Kate Mitchell School
and lived in our neighborhood known affectionately by us, its residents, as The
Teacup.That made sense to me, a doctor
myself; but, fuck, 10 more hours than necessary! without something to finally
help me sleep?!Then when I, at
last, had had to get a little loud with the personnel, why, they
all flew into routine drill mode for a possibly violent combatant gone mental
on them!!!O, had they ever!

If I’d only taken Lionel Portia inside with me like he had wanted
to go.If only.

With Pillared, Privileged Herry in the pathology business
and himself on this hospital’s very medical
staff, he definitely had obtained private information about me as a physician
that he was nowhere, no way –– never –– entitled to know, to
have –– or to (ab)use –– as an ex – husband, as a person, as the other,
opposing ‘parent’ embattled with me, a client there, for my Children’s very
custody.

Indeed, those of Dr. Elitist Edinsmaier’s Leader – of – the –
Community marks were all over this one.It was no stretch, either, to further imagine Ms. Fannie Issicran
nodding her balding bobblehead as she stood, er, as she soooo plopped that unctuous,
male – identified McLive carcass of hers fully down beside her man!

A couple of cool, cool things did happen in the joint, inside
the SpaChezResort Hotel Sixth Floor.In
addition to the wonderfully refreshening sleep.Friends from out of the woodwork called so much that by the end of the first
week, my telephone “privileges” had been severely limited by the staff.Abraham and László took me on long, long
around – the – block walks; that is, the second week there we daily went round
and round the hospital complex’s gardens, courtyard and grounds as long as I
was “allowed” outside.From The Teacup
nurse I obtained the name of the Reverend Mr. Keith Log, a therapist she said
truly, truly knew pain and suffering –– and survival.

Come to find out, Mr. Log was about my age, had been at one
time an ordained Mennonite minister married 26 years to Rhonda with whom he’d
raised up three birthed children to all of their adulthoods before explaining
to her that he, with the help of a lot of people among whom he counted both his
mother and father, was exiting the closet … finally.Their (legal and religious) marriage formally
ended, of course.Their friendship and
bonds, after three or four more fairly rocky, and even somewhat explosive, subsequent
years, did not.From very shortly after the
time when I myself exited that most closeted mental establishment on Monday
morning, 01 October 1990, to this, Keith remains for me and for hundreds in
town not only a lifeline ministering wherever he is needed but also a true part
of my estate … my friend.

But, two things were not cool.In no way.Soooo, so … not cool.

The drugs.Om’gaaawd!
the drugs.I ballooned by the end of the
drug – taking, Herry – Daddee’s drugging of me, over two years later … 47
pounds up … which until this current 21st Century, never, ever came
off! For over a decade there occurred my
carrying around this fat that I, too, had actually paid them all biiiig dollars
–– to do to me!Herry –– fuckingly controlling
from behind his self – and judge – anointing as an elitist community pillar and
from the safety of his smarmy frontage as an unguentary physician in the area stomped
his toe tips down onto my bathroom scale every single time –– which was so damned
often I lost count –– that I begged the court – appointed outpatient
psychiatrist, Dr. Singh, to altogether quit with the lithium and the
haloperidol and the chlorpromazine and the imipramine.Just leave me the hell alone with

an itty bitty, wee amount of the friggin’ flurazepam, 15 mg
a night for awhile; that was all I needed.And I,

a doctor my own self after all –– but a Not Male one, of
course! –– knew it, too.

But no.

A court document, an estoppel of some sort, would appear
ordering me to remain doped.To
remain fucked.

Barred, Herry did with that court – order paper of his, my freedom FROM
drugging.I –– and many,
many others –– call the dance I boogied …
the Haldol Shuffle.Inside the shell
that was the thing in the room who was me, I continued entirely lucid and solidly
knew just exactly how mother – fuckingly ridiculous I looked outwardly to all
who saw me literally pour on the pounds or try to stop the stiffened amble or
my rock – hard, stony and stoned, frozen face.I could not smile but that I looked like my mumbling jaws would shatter
ifI did try to.And my vision?I still
could not read, and Grace –– as, indeed, was I –– remained yet so troubled
about that for me.The words were not
only fuzzy, but they also jumped all over their freaking paragraphs.That was the worst of it for me; Grace
worried, “How will you get through your day, Legion, if you cannot read?!How?!”

What is as murdering is
that Herry
so very well knew, too, the loathsome, renditioning side effects of all of this
deadening junk – fuck.If Torturer
and Executioner Herod Edinsmaier in his chief role in The Opera could not slay
me himself and, most importantly here, at
the same time retain all of his glory and money and

if I would not seem to go dead
by way of my own hand –– which, of course, had not yet happened, –– well then,
fuck, all of this toxic chemical shit just might kill her!From the PDR which any of us all know is the
Physician’s Desk Reference:“Overdose may cause cardiac rhythm disturbance, stupor, coma and death.May result in heart block, hypertension and
postural hypotension.Also may cause
coma, seizures, hallucinations, delusions and tremor.”That was just for imipramine – and for that
evil haloperidol as well as with chlorpromazine alone?Try possibly irreversible!Including like irreversibly dead!Whoa!“Potentially irreversible, involuntary movements of the face, hands and
trunk (tardive dyskinesia), increased heart rate, low blood pressure and EKG changes.Cases of sudden and unexpected death have been reported.May also cause high fevers, muscle rigidity, altered mental states and
instability of blood pressure and pulse; potentially fatal (neuroleptic
malignant syndrome).”Fuck!I was fucked –– soooo fucked –– and did I
ever know it, too!

The second heinous –– and utterly preventable ––
wicked thing?Tuesday evening, 25
September 1990, 12 – year – old Jesse
found a newspaper, the Ames Tribune,
on our Havencourt stoop and opened it up before taking it inside to his Grandpa
AmTaham.I was subscribing because of
the campaign –– now most postponed at that present time, of course.There, with my headshot image and headlines scrawled
and screaming across the top of its very front page, was the story of a woman
deemed mental and crazed by Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor thinking she was still in
the electoral running for recorder of this, the Ames community’s Storm
County!A storm ensued all right.Dear, dear Jesse, then AmTaham, then Zane and
Mirzah and, of course Mehitable too, all knew –– for the first time right then
and there … their “unofficial” notice, that is –– they all knew of the outcome of Act Two: a custody – decisioning decree the article
stated which Judge Seizor had signed the Friday previously, the 21st,
and that had then appeared in court records as official just the day before
this newspaper’s edition, that is, the decreed decision was official on Monday
… 24 September 1990.

The article’s author was a person then named Abbey Gaffey,
about 25 or so.By the time I was released
and on the way home from the hospital by way of a really rarely stunned AmTaham
on 01 October, Ms. Gaffey was, also a Monday one week hence, cleaning out her
desk at the Trib and told to be gone
from the building before her editor returned.This boss man’s act was the
Tribune’s version of an appeasement bone thrown to the Ames area masses.A sacrificed, virginally configured, DEhuman
youth Ms. Gaffey was … whom her boss man actually had the mother – fucking
insolence to term out loud … “an unbridled reporter.”Traumatizing Jesse?Me?Mirzah or Zane?Ms. Gaffey?What the patriarchal fuck had Pillared Media
Man cared?

A reporter Friend of mine, whom I shall not name outright for
obvious clandestine reasons, called me at the hospital to tell me that he
personally had witnessed this editor’s tyrannical abettors’ and cohorts’ deed
in the bloodbath that maneuvered my and my Boys’ published undoing, “No!”

“JYeah.Yea – aaaah,”
Friend declared.

“O my fucking god, Friend!”

“Ya’ know, Legion ... as much as you believe that your case
is important and as much as it so is to you and to your boys, of course, it
really isn’t to a newspaper.Nobody here
went lookin’ for this.We never do.”

“Well, it’s a divorce, Legion.A divorce.People get frickin’ divorced every single day everywhere.And nobody prints a thing about it.And we don’t either.Not even the ones with kids.Everybody’s also got kids, Legion, and
o’course, a divorce is a lotta times, probably most times, gonna involve
kids.It just isn’t news.And we soooo don’t go lookin’ for it.Nobody from here went over to the courthouse
to get the daily rap sheet or whatever the fuck custody records are
called.We don’t have to; there’s plenty
of other stuff to report on and print.”

Des Moines apparently.Ya’ know, in Scheisser’s morning’s mail there.Well, it spilled out all over our newsroom
floor cuz there were so many pages to it all.And ‘fore anyone noticed what was on the fax machine, why, the air
conditioner was blowin’ ‘em all over.”

“Om’god.And then?”

“Yeah well, somebody gathered ‘em all together and read out
loud who it was about –– you.An’ we all
knew you were running.Ya’ know, runnin’
for county recorder.That guy took it over
to the editor.That was about 11
yesterday, an’ Abbey?Well, Abbey didn’t
right then have an assignment so he put her on it.She’d already met deadline, and she was freed
up; that’s why the editor put it on to her.”

“Well, actually no, Friend.I haven’t.I know about what it
says though.Sort of.But I
can’t read.All of the goddamn dope
–– and I can barely keep food down for that matter.Ever since Carlotta was here last night.She brought in to me both the decree and the newspaper.”Those two items she had had all right.Acting the evening before in her two pieces
of lace – fringed ivory Escada Couture like she was such the concerned friend –
o’ – mine driving her tiny, teal – tinged attorney ass all the way up from Des
Moines “to serve” me in The Sixth Floor Hotel what amounted to just another
helping of mother – fucking.This from
the person who did not even know ‘my case’ –– from its
first minute inside Act Two Part Two, the person who didn’t even have the
witnesses straight, let alone, the facts.Nor all of its facts.Let alone, any of the ones that she had
managed to have at her very
fingertips –– aside from their being anywhere near the tip of her friggin’
tongue.

So head – bangingly true it was.Only I
had known ‘my case’ like ‘my case’ had needed to be known ––

yet I could not shepherd
it, let alone, … present it.

The guts of Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor’s Trial Two decree
signed 21 September 1990, amounted to the fact that even though he
acknowledged that I had “not significantly restricted Herry’s
specified visitation,” [There had, Jury, in reality?There had been noooo restriction in “Herry’s
specified visitation” ever at all! ! !]not only were all three Boys to be handed
over to the Good and Wonderful Dr. Herod Edinsmaier on Saturday, the 13th
of October, at 11:30 in the morning with the directive specifically to this man
that he “should not destroy the love and attachment they have for their mother;”
but daJudge also gave a similarly countenanced community pillar, daDoctor, the
now court – ordered patriarchal power to reign over and to rein in … me!That is to say, the fact that Herry, daMan
and the daddee, was also a fine, leadership hoo – hah, a
physician at that, this now meant that The Court in the form of The High
Aggrandizier was stepping aside and aggrandizing The Androcentric Good Doctor
instead.Judge Seizor had just
supplanted himself with Dominion – Colonizing Herry –– and ordered Dr.
Edinsmaier to literally take over all legal control of the Truemaier Boys
and
of me –– for as much and for as long as King Herod wanted this
reign and these reins!

No matter that Herry Edinsmaier was also … my ex –
husband.No.No matter that
small thing.

“Legion may have visitation provided she has furnished to
Herry a signed statement requesting visitation, stating that during the periods
of visitation she will refrain from any negative comments to or about Herry,
his spouse, and her children in the presence of the boys, and that she is
undergoing and will continue to undergo counseling to help her achieve a
harmonious relationship.”Next page The
High Aggrandizier rubber – stamped King Herod’s reign of terror in this folie à
deux of his with Herry, “If it becomes apparent to Herry that Legion is
continuing to engage in the same practices that blah, blah, blah …”

Hmmm, just precisely how, in specific outline and detail,
was that order of Judge Seizor’s “apparent
to Herry?”O, but he waaas … the Androcentric Good Doctor,
Dr. Edinsmaier was.So, in countenance
and demeanor then by the fact that Herry was i) a man and ii) a medical doctor,
then he looked quite a passel like the flowingly intelligent, black – caped
magistrate himself, the High Aggrandizier.Likewise then, was Herod not also most able by so appearing as clever
and gifted, especially to all in the community, to have all matters of the
children and their custody, his own
children, become “apparent” to
him?As well as, of course, with the
aggrandizing of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier through then his maleness, his superior
medical knowledge and his training, why daMan also known as the ex – husband
and the daddee would also be “objective,”
capable and skilled in the discernmentof the law like a judge would be,
would he not, in setting down the detailed guidelines into what Judge Sol
Wacotler Seizor literally decreed was to be “a program of mental therapy”
for the childlike subject, Legion True,
to follow and to adhere to and for himself, King Herod, to design and, then
subsequently –– if pleased and satisfied … enough … as to the child’s
performance thereof, to sign off on!

Just like, by way of Herry’s long and circuitously stretchy
digits, King Herod had already been symphonizing and conducting from behind The
Opera’s scenes … with “the papers” and with “sending” Sheriff Stout and Attorney
Zaffar and with all of those psychotropic drugs and the threat to me of Cherokee State Mental Hospital … thus
far.Just like the Ames Trib saga which was unfolding before me, Part Three now
had Herry behind it, too!

The folie à deux from the High Aggrandizier continued,
“Joint custody should be terminated and sole custody be placed with Herry.Payment of child support to Legion should be
terminated after payment of the October 01, 1990 payment.Herry has the right to make application to
require her to contribute to the support of the children or share in the uninsured
medical expenses.He is to advise her by
letter that it is his intention to terminate visitation if her practice
continues.He has the right to deny
visitation.”

Herry could devise a program of mental therapy that I needed
to follow and about which he, The Good Doctor Edinsmaier himself, granted by
way of the folie à deux with The High Aggrandizier, that is, this authority now
conveyed upon him by ‘the Court,’ would decide was either enough or it
wasn’t.Herry could now wield the power to mother – fuckingly decide the construct
and structure of such a program all by himself, to have me, his ex – wife – yet
– nonetheless – “child,” submissively succumb to it and to complete it
successfully to his satisfaction alone,
before he, Herry, would even have to consider affixing his
signature to something that bestowed back upon me – perhaps – a “chance” to have contact with any one ofmy very own children again! Unfuckingbelievable!I mean:THINK on that!Unbelievable mother – fuck!

No matter that Dr. Edinsmaier was a sex addict and had repeatedly
sexually and physically abused his sons.And me.

“If her practice continues …”Of not turning a blind eye any longer, that
practice of hers?No, Judge Seizor, Your
High Aggrandizier, no matter that small thing.No matter that Judge Seizor also wrote that with me, “The boys continue
to do well except that Zane has been involved in consuming beer, smoking and he
is not achieving his educational potential.Each of the parties suggests that that’s due to the action of the other
one.”No matter that they already were doing, all three of them in fact, truly quite, quite well!With
me!

Judge Seizor, the High Aggrandizier, had just given a fairly
smart American man not only as legal chattel the very children whom I
alone chose to grow –– AND . AND . AND . CHOSE TO NOT ABORT
–– but also complete legal control,
dominion and all – encompassing power over me, that man’s ex – wife.Take my children, then ya’ take me and all
that is mine, too.Ya’ take her
children, then you take and murder all that is of her soul and of her freedom,
all that is of any real importance to any true mother whom I know …
anywhere.Take, take and take.Be certain to take and own it all.Take all of hers.Whoooa!Now what literally mother – fucking application of the worldwide concept
of aprovechar is that!Sperm Exaltation!

A FLIP / REVERSE would never
have even entered itself onto any judge’s radar.To decree this –– onto a man?Onto a father?To be controlled, this daddy, by a
woman?By his ex – wife?A father – fucking?! Fuck –– never!

Friend proceeded with the account at the Tribune on the 24th, “Yeah, Abbey got it; and after
all the laughing died down, why, she went to work on it.Around 5, the boss must’ve seen her
leaving.She was outside on the sidewalk
headed to her car.He bolted out the
door and grabbed her arm from behind –– kinda draggin’ her back up to the front
door all the time yelling at her.The
rest of us?! –– Well, we all ran to the window.”

“Seems he hated her story.That’s what happened.Her first
one, that is.Thought it was way, way
too watered down.He actually literally threw
Abbey back into her chair in front of her monitor and was still screaming at
her, and I’m quoting here now, Legion, ‘Put
the goddamn titillating, juicy stuff back in it, Abbey.Do it!Do it now!’That’s what he
told her to do.And, … an’ then he just
stood there.Over her shoulder the
entire time.Till she got it done.The second version of it.The one she’d tried so hard …

not … to write at all!”

“Om’frickin’gaaawd, Friend!Unfuckingbelievable!”

“JYeah, I’ll say!Well, you can imagine:we’re all
tiptoeing around here yet today.We are
so shuuut the hell up, I’m telling ya’, Legion!”

“I guess.Whoooa,
Friend, it is bad, isn’t it?!I’m certainly done as a candidate.Not to mention through and done, too, as a mama,
huh?!”

“Well, yeah, Legion, it so does look exactly that way.You are through being a candidate; that’s for
damn sure.Talked to Margot yet?”Friend meant Margot, the Party’s county
chairwoman.I hadn’t I replied.

Not at that point yet, I had not.

AmTaham was so sad.Angry, too.AmTaham did angry
about the same way that I did angry:in nearly
utter silence for days and days and days.He didn’t talk now as he drove.I
was so sad, too, but happy to finally be headed home –– such as my home now was:what with Mehitable’s and Herry’s both having ‘rearranged’ my house and all of its inhabitants and all
of its contents to suit just the two of them!

Grace told me during the first week in which I’d gone
missing that Herry had come around multiple times to hers and Lionel’s so she
suspected he’d been over to Havencourt and speaking then to Mehitable, too,
when Mirzah, Jesse and Zane had gone from the Portias back over to there; but
she wasn’t certain on that point.“I do have to tell ya’ something you are just
not
going to believe though, Legion!Herry
actually said to both Lionel and to me that we should all get together with him
and Fannie McLive – now.Ya’ know, like
before – with all of our Boys.Go out
together for supper and come over and visit and they all come by for pie and
coffee or something!JYeah, he actually
did say “pie”?!!He did!He said “pie”!!Like you, Legion, like you didn’t exist!Like you never even existed before!As if you –– Zane, Jesse and Mirzah’s actual mama?Just as if you’d never really ever existed
at all either, Legion!He made you … ah,
ya’ know … sound invisible!Know what Lionel did?He just glared him down.Not one word came out of Lionel.Then he turned his back on Herry and went
down to the basement.Takes a lot to
shock Lionel, ya’ know.Believe me,
Legion, Lionel was stunned!”I believed
her; I believed Lionel was stunned.

We were grieving, Mirzah, Jesse, Zane, AmTaham and me.Mehitable’s voice was the last one I needed
to hear and, so unfortunately, the only one talking.Fuck, those first days of the orange and brown
harvest month were nearly my darkest, I thought.Things were about to get a helluva lot
blacker; I could not even have imagined then just how black.Years later, Adam and Abraham from Quaker
Meeting recounted the Ames Tribune
events that ensued and unfolded while the Trues and the Truemaier Boys remained
sequestered on Havencourt awaiting the 13th day of October, that
particular month’s second Saturday, in 1990.

Come to find out, Reporter
Abbey Gaffey had, indeed, … been fired!

And was leaving town on nearly the exact same day that
AmTaham drove me home –– in order to move back in with her own parents in Sioux
City, up in the very same northwest Iowa direction but even a bit further on from
Ames than Cherokee.Two Quakers walked
into the downtown offices of the Ames Tribune
to speak to its editor – in – chief where they then learned that over 300
subscriptions had been dropped within a month after the front – page article had
run and that letters to its editor had poured in regarding its soooo, so – yellow,
tabloid journalism.None, the Quakers
were told, of the letters went after me or my “obsession” ––as the High Aggrandizier decreed my stance had
been on Herry’s sexual addiction and his paternal parenting behavior with my Boys.

In addition to the one entitled with AmTaham’s vocabulary
word in its headliner, “Story appealed to prurient
interest,” another letter published had been written by a fellow Kate Mitchell Elementary
classmate of Jesse, Zane and Mirzah’s –– whose own mama had coached Mirzah and
Jesse in their early – morning, before – school sessions of French and
German.The child’s submission was
entitled “Truemaier story was in poor taste.”The Truemaier Boys’ classmate wrote, “To the Editor:I think the article in the Sept. 25 Daily Tribune entitled ‘Judge: Mental
disturbance key in True custody case’ with its second page headline of
‘Kids:Psychiatric counseling
recommended’ was in poor taste.I don’t
think there is any purpose in putting
that article in the paper.Other people
have no business knowing the details of the Trues’ and the Truemaiers’ personal
lives.All the article does is drag
their family through the mud.I also
really don’t understand why you put the sons’ names in the article.I don’t know when you went to school last,
but I’m in the seventh grade at the Ames Middle School and if someone wrote an
article like that about my family I would be very upset.”The minor student signed it.

The Quakers Abraham and Adam had asked –– in person –– for
an explanation and a retraction:an
apology.The big – shot men of the Tribune’s answer to them and to the furious
citizens of Ames was their firing of

Ms. Abbey Gaffey, the
Tribune’s “unbridled reporter” –– which is how they, her boss ... and that
man’s boss, had ever – so – androcentrically – and – conveniently excusedthemselves –– by terming and, thus, …

by sacrificing … this particular peon – DEhuman worker to
their Ames community.

I myself spoke by telephone to
Ms. Gaffey in the spring of 1995, 4½ years after its headlining publication.Around Mother’s Day it was then.She absolutely and utterly confirmed Friend’s
accounting of all of the events of Monday,
24 September 1990, at the Ames Tribune
building –– right down to the part where her boss, Mr. Gary Gerlach, had
indeed, “stood over my shoulder the entire time till I finished its juiciness to
his titillated satisfaction!”

Then Ms. Abbey said something
else rather riveting, “Ya’ know, Dr. True, I was out of a job for six
months.Not only did I have to move back
in with my parents but I was also blackballed and couldn’t get work anywhere at
a newspaper in Iowa.They made me your, um,
I mean, their scapegoat for folks’
outrage.I teach writing and composition at this little,
itsy bitsy college over the border inside Nebraska now at a really, really
small town there called Wayne.That’s
it.It’s okay.Not what I had wanted to do at all, but it’s
okay.But ya’ know what?Every single chance I get, every single one,
I tell my journalism students anywhere never, never, ever to go do their
internships at the Ames Tribune, I
don’t care how hootie – tootie or hoity – toity its publisher is.”She was referring, of course, to the Ames Tribune’s Pulitzer Prize – winning
editorialist and also its owner and publisher, Mr. Michael Gartner, himself the
former president of NBC News –– until
its fraudulent reporting! documented in Dateline’s
GM trucks’ story, brought Gartner down off that particular pillar –– but,
now?Now, Mr. Michael Gartner presently
owns Iowa’s triple A ball club, the Iowa
Cubs.

We Quakers?We never
got our apology.And I?The crazed whore of an unfit mother?I was out of the running for my jobs,
too.Finished.Kaput.Finito.Either as candidate for
county recorder or … as mama.

****

What a near perfect soul – murdering stratagem of Pissed –
off, Gut – the – Bloody – Bitch Herry’s!Cunning and calculation in this fairly smart pillar.“Keep Legion poor, as poor as I can manage
from here, here from behind the main curtain of The Opera!Smear her!Keep her from that cushy county job, and what’s more?O, what hard copy have I now to use against
her anyfuckingwhere else that I so choose to!To smash her with it!To crush
her!She sure’s hell, poor as a fucking
church mouse, can’t continue to keep coming after me –– and certainly not in
fucking court if she hasn’t got a fucking lawyer!Or, the means to pay one with!”

The “evidence” that was truly “key” in Act Two Part One,
that is Trial Two’s, Respondent’s Exhibit S –– that’d be S as in “sex
addict.”

What follows is
from Herry’s own script scribbled down onto pages taken from a Pfizer drug
rep’s freebie doxycycline hyclate pad left from time to time around the laboratory
of the Good and Wonderful Doctor, that is, from out of Dr Herod Edinsmaier’s own
hand!Verbatim! and In
Toto! [except for the
bracketed phrases which are my only
added comments]:

Links

About Me

! My thoughts are as free as wind o'er the ocean,
No one can see their form or their motion.
No hunter can find them, no trap ever bind them.
MY LIPS may be STILL, ... ... BUT ... I THINK WHAT I WILL ! ( as, and in the manner, of Alsatian pacifists, World War II )
! The whole body of SCIENCE is PROOF against all gods from all religions !
"The most important attribute for 'a real scientist' is: to actually .understand. some science." -- Dr Brian Cox